


Relationship Status: It's Complicated

by neil4god



Category: Inception (2010), RED (2010)
Genre: AU, Arthur Moses, Arthur POV, BAMF Arthur, BAMF Victoria, Graphic Description of Injuries, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapped Eames, M/M, Oblivious Arthur, Oneshot, Oneshot probably, RED crossover, Robert Eames Simanov Winslow, Russian Mafia, Torture - aftermath, canon level violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-09 21:19:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1998204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neil4god/pseuds/neil4god
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their relationship was complicated. No-one was really sure what was going on with them, but the one thing they could all agree on was that no-one wanted to be the one to tell Arthur Eames was missing. So they did what any self-respecting criminal would do, they made the rookie do it. They let him walk in there, head held high, thinking he was hot shit only for Arthur to tear him apart. They probably should have given him some pointers first, like don't just blurt it out. Don't call yourself the 'new Eames' and whatever you do, don't tell him we told you. Of course he could have gone in sympathy and roses and Arthur still would have shot him. That was just who they were.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Relationship Status: It's Complicated

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everybody,
> 
> This is just a quick oneshot that popped into my head. I don't think it's going to go anywhere, definitely not until my Batman/Teen Wolf cross is finished anyway, but I hope you enjoy x x x

Eames was missing. He let that sink in for a minute, thinking about all the ways he shouldn’t care. It shouldn’t mean a damn thing to him, but it does. It means a lot, and sure he can say it’s for business reasons (and he will) but Eames means something to him. He’s been a part of his life for as long as he can remember. He taught him to swear in Russian and cheat at poker and a million other things that nobody knows about. 

So when Arthur is eventually told, by a terrified young man, supposedly sent to take Eames’ place – not that Arthur was fooled for one second, Rick sent him because he was too scared to say it to Arthur’s face himself. They all were, not that they didn't have reason to, after all he did shoot the messenger (little shit thought he was the 'new Eames' - he deserved the flesh wound!) After that Arthur handed his notes to the pointman and boarded a plane. He was in Paris which meant he could fly practically anywhere, so he spent an hour in the airport glued to his laptop. When he found it, he couldn’t stop his knuckles from clenching. Eames wasn’t missing, he was taken. A botched job in Russia. That would make things easier at least. There was no way they knew who they’d taken, or Eames would be back in his hotel room with an apology note and flowers. Of course, if Arthur explained the situation he would be forced to bring in outside help which he was loathed to do. Eames was on the outs with his father at the moment, and Arthur’s relationship with his dad wasn’t exactly smooth sailing either. On the other hand, if he didn’t ask for their help and then Victoria found out, well he may as well cut off his own balls and mail them to her. 

He spent the plane ride mulling over his options. By the time he reached St Petersburgh he had come to a decision. He would call all three of them, well aware that it would take at least a day for any of them to arrive, and go in for Eames on his own. That way he had his bases covered and if things went well, he could grab Eames and be out of Russia without meeting up with any of their parents. Arthur was going to label that the optimal result. Eames was probably going to be cranky and ungrateful as always, but if his mom and dad were there too then he’d be downright nasty. He hated being vulnerable, and the idea of being rescued by his retiree parents would be intolerable. He used a burner cell and made the call on a party line so he only had to do this once. He had no intention of repeating himself. 

Victoria answered first, her accent crisp over the line, “Arthur darling this is a surprise, what can I do for you?”  
That’s were Eames got his pet names from. She was always calling him darling or sweetheart, somehow it bothered him less when Eames did it. “Hang on I’m just waiting for dad to answer."  
“Whyever do you need me and Frank? You haven’t gotten yourself into trouble Artie?”  
He fucking hated it when she called him Artie. Luckily his dad answered before he could say something rude, “Hey dad, hold the line a sec.”  
His dad huffed but stayed silent until Ivan picked up. “Alright you’re all here."  
“What’s going on Arthur? Are you in trouble?”  
Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, he didn’t want them tag teaming him, but it was too late now. “I’m fine dad honestly. Eames got himself kidnapped by the Russian mafia though, so I figured I should let you know.”  
There that sounded alright, not too bad so far. 

He expected Victoria to be the one shouting at him, but he should have known it would be Ivan. He was a marshmallow where his son was concerned. He was blustering away in Russian almost too fast for Arthur to follow, but he managed to keep up and almost wished he hadn’t. His descriptions of just what he intended to do to Eames’ kidnappers would no doubt haunt his sub-conscience for weeks. Shouting both Ivan and his father down (dad, for some inexplicable reason, adored Eames) Arthur told them calmly. “I’ve made contact with some people I know so I know where they’ve taken him. I’m on my way to pick up a few things and then I’ll go get him. This was just a courtesy call to let everyone know what’s happening and so that if the worst does happen, you can storm the Kremlin (again) and come to the rescue. Okay?”  


It wasn’t okay. They were very not okay with this, but Arthur had things to do and places to be, so he made non-committal noises as he walked through frozen alleyways in hand made Italian leather dress shoes and a thick woollen coat he stole in the airport. He was almost at the meeting place when his dad shouted “Enough! We’ll all go. Arthur don’t you dare make a move without us. We’ll contact you when we touch down.”  
Like he was just going to sit around twiddling his thumbs waiting for them to come to the rescue when Eames was being tortured, not bloody likely! Eames was his . . . something. 

They were friends almost, their parents were friends at least. And Arthur had spent enough nights cuddled against the older boy in a strange bed in a strange country for that to count for something. They grew up together and like it or not, they had each other’s backs. He hung up and ignored the stirring in his gut. He shouldn’t be concerned by Victoria’s lack of response, she had argued plenty with dad and Ivan about who was closest, but still. A quiet Victoria was a scary Victoria. He had learned that a long time ago. He just hoped like fuck she wasn’t already in Russia, because if she was, then he was in for a right bollicking. 

He was freezing but he had already taken out three guards and another had gone to investigate their absence. Forcing his frozen limbs into action he snuck into the building cautiously, taking care not to make too much noise or draw any attention to himself. He did not want to got caught by the Russian mob. Bad enough he was freezing his ass off, he didn’t want to actually die in Russia. He hated the fucking cold and he was going to tell Eames as much when he saw him. That bastard had better be bloody grateful. He’d gone through a lot to get here, he’d called in two favours he’d been holding onto for something special. Eames would probable smirk at that, laugh and tell him he was special. Special his hole! 

The only reason he was dancing through doorways and shimmying around corners was so he could have the pleasure of killing Eames himself. He garrotted some thug blocking a darkened entrance, stepping carefully over his body and despairing the ruin of his shoes. He loved those shoes and now they were destroyed. He’d make Eames buy him a new pair, after all it was only fitting. He had to go past three more guards before he found the right cell. He had peaked in the others, eyebrows raised at the filthy inhabitants. Some of them were familiar, he had seen their faces on his father’s files. He was not opening those doors. He pickpocketed the key from one of the cooling corpses on the floor, careful not to touch too much, prints could be taken even through latex, and he was nothing if not careful. 

Eames was huddled against a wall, his clothes in tatters and his face a mess of bruising. He jumped at the creaking of the door, flattening himself against the wall and jesus fucking Christ he was going to gut every single bastard in the building. He was going to feed them their entrails and peel off their skin. Fury fuelled him but it didn’t have an avenue, not yet. There were still guards roaming the building but Eames was more important. He had to get him out of here, away from the stench of blood and excrement. In slow deliberate steps he made his way over to Eames, his hands held out, an uzi slung over his back. He pushed his fingers into Eames hair and felt the man jump under his hands, eyes closed and face screwed up in fear. “Eames it’s me. It’s ok, I’m going to get you out.”  
Eames cracked an eyelid, staring up at him, through cracked lips he murmured, “It’s not real. It’s not real.”  
Cautiously Arthur rubbed his fingers across Eames’ cheekbones, forcing him to look at him, “This is real Eames. I am real and we need to leave now before your mother arrives.”  
He saw the instant it became real for him. The very second that Eames believed this was reality. He let out this horrible sob and dragged Arthur closer, burying his face in Arthur’s stomach and gripping him too tight. Arthur hugged back just as fiercely, terrified of everything Eames had been through. 

Casting a wary look over his shoulder, Arthur sighed heavily and pulled Eames up. The older man teetered slightly and when Arthur looked down he winced, they had broken his toes and from the odd angle of his arm, dislocated his shoulder as well. Now that he was wobbling forward Arthur was able to assess the damage and it was considerable. He was black and blue all over, his wheezing breaths indicated broken ribs and from the looks of his ankle that was sprained too. But all considering, he was bloody lucky the ankle wasn’t shattered and his fingers were still attached. Forcing himself to be practical, Arthur wrapped an arm around Eames’ waist and half walked, half dragged him out of the cell. He slipped the uzi around to his front, this was after all why he bought it in the first place. 

The other prisoners were screaming out, begging to be rescued as well and Arthur cursed every one of them. He could hear the shouts and stamp of running feet and more guards. They were coming towards him. Assessing his options, Arthur tugged Eames in close and let off a brief burst of gunfire at the nearest opening. They needed to pass that to get up the three flights of stairs to the surface. He had a car waiting outside a safe site an hour’s drive away. If they could get to the car they could be out of the country by nightfall, and really twenty four hours was more than enough time for Arthur to spend in Russia. When there was answering gunfire that wasn’t directed at them, Arthur cursed his luck and held tightly to Eames, pushing him up against a wall. He wedged him there, the older man letting him manipulate him how he pleased. He ran his fingers through Eames’ hair trying to smooth it down, then cast a despairing look at the rest of him. There wasn’t anything he could do, not without a med-kit and a quiet corner. Giving up, he pulled a nine millimetre out of his pants and placed it carefully in Eames’ hand. “Is your grip ok?”  
Eames nodded, breathing too heavily to speak, but he understood. He didn’t want anyone to see him like this, especially not his mum. He was supposed to be strong and gunghoe, just like she raised him to be. Just like she raised them both to be really. 

She was waiting for them when they rounded the corner, in white furs and dripping diamonds, she waved them both forward with the barrel of her gun. “We need to move, you have him Arthur?”  
He was grateful she didn’t say anything else, just gave them her back and marched forward, killing anyone that strayed into her path. They made it to the safe house without a hitch. It was one of Ivan’s of course, it had long been regarded as theirs to use, not that Arthur ever had before. But it was warm and well protected. Arthur let Victoria call Ivan and Frank while he locked himself in the bathroom with Eames. That hard layer of nonchalance that Eames had been projecting broke apart once they were alone. He didn’t have to be brave for Arthur. He let his body crumble to the floor. Arthur stripped him slowly, careful not to pull open any of his wounds. There were welts on his stomach, they would probably scar. Arthur felt that fury rise in him again but he forced it down. He made his touches soft and Eames leaned into each one, grateful for the contact. He pulled the med-kit from a large corner chest filled with weapons and gently cleaned out each wound. He worked silently, dressing the wounds that he could and stitching up the rest before he started setting bones. 

Eames made little hitched noises, startled breaths and whooshes of air that cut Arthur apart. When he began stitching the knife wounds across his torso, Eames hissed in a breath and spoke, “It was only a few days, I’ll be okay.”  
Arthur nodded in agreement, because it was true, he would be okay. Arthur would make damn sure of it. He let Eames speak, happy that the other man was feeling up to it, “I knew you would come Arthur. I never doubted that. Wish you hadn’t brought mum though.”  
He gasped loudly, the sound bouncing off tiles as Arthur tugged on a stitch. Sweating lightly he continued, “You reckon dad’s going to kick their arses for this?”  
Eames was smiling just a little but something about that crooked smile made Arthur’s heart lift. “No. I don’t think he’ll get the chance. Victoria’s pretty pissed and I heard the door close earlier. I’m pretty sure they’ll all be dead before Ivan lands.”  
He felt his own smile beam back at Eames, although it withered somewhat when he said “Pity, dad can get really creative when he wants.”  
Arthur knew just how creative Ivan could be, how creative all of their parents could be when given the right motivation. “I’m well aware. I still have nightmares.”  
Eames winced in sympathy or possibly pain, but never took his eyes off Arthur as he spoke, “Will you stay with me when we get out of here? I don’t want to go back to how we were before. This has given me a whole new perspective darling. I don’t want to pussyfoot around anymore.”  


Arthur tied off the stitch and stared up at his beaten, bruised, friend? Were they friends? Was that what had led him halfway across the world without hesitation? Was it their lingering childhood memories, days spent learning to defend themselves, to shoot guns, to talk to pretty boys. Was that all they were? Irritation in an abandoned warehouse, antagonistic rivalry and a working relationship the entire industry whispered about. Was that all they were or was there more? Could there be more? Arthur wasn’t sure, but he had never felt this angry in his life, never wanted to hurt someone as much as he did when he found Eames in that cell. Eames was a part of him, some integral unspoken part that had never needed to be named and maybe that was why they didn’t get along. Maybe when they hit adulthood and they didn’t move their relationship forward, maybe that was why they fought so much. Arthur had honestly never given it much thought. He couldn’t help but think about it now, with Eames laid open before him looking so broken. And that was what did it, he couldn’t bear the thought of anyone seeing Eames like this. Inching forward Arthur pressed a tender kiss to those cracked lips he’d fantasised about. Eames kissed back eagerly, pushing as much of his body as he could closer to Arthur. He was still in pain though, so Arthur leaned back after one last nip to those luscious lips. He looked dazed, they both probably did. Kissing Eames was like finding a part of himself that he’d never known was missing. It felt right somehow in a way nothing else ever had. Putting away the needle, Arthur set the broken bones and pushed Eames’ shoulder back into place. When he was done Eames was dripping with sweat, his face pasty and his eyes glazed, but he managed to laugh and ask “Any chance darling we can escape before mum comes back?”  
Arthur didn’t get a chance to respond before Eames passed out completely. 

When Eames woke up he was half convinced it was a dream. Last thing he remembered was Arthur kissing him in a cabin somewhere in the Black Forest while his mum took down the Russian mafia single handed. So waking up in cotton sheets that smelled like Arthur in a minimal amount of pain and no sign of his mum anywhere, well it had to be a dream. When he realised that Arthur was in the bed beside him huddled close, well that just cemented it. He was beautiful though, with those long lashes and those high cheekbones Eames loved so much. He was desperately hoping that earlier wasn’t a dream, he liked the way Arthur had held him close, the way he took care of him. He especially liked the way he kissed him. That he could definitely do again. Shifting his focus from Arthur he took in the surrounding room. This didn’t feel like somnican, so it was probably a natural dream. He didn’t get many of those anymore. They were in an apartment somewhere, in a large sparsely decorated bedroom. There were a few photos on the walls, one of him and Arthur when they were teenagers at the Moses house (before it blew up obviously). The clock told him it was almost twelve and Eames could see rays of sunshine poking through a gap in the curtains. Arthur moved the tiniest bit closer to him and Eames decided to enjoy it. He had a really shitty week and he was probably drugged to his gills, so he should enjoy this moment of peace while he could. He reached his non-injured arm across Arthur, dragging him closer even as his body complained. It wasn’t really Arthur anyway, he could do whatever he wanted in a dream. 

He was about to lean forward and kiss him when the phone rang, sharp and too loud. A tiny wrinkle of displeasure appeared on Arthur’s forehead and Eames tried to manipulate the dream to make the blasted thing stop, but it didn’t. Instead it went into voicemail, his mum’s voice hard and high “Arthur Moses wait til I get my hands on you! What were you thinking taking him away from me? And don’t think you’re not in trouble for going ahead without us, your father is on his way and he is most displeased. We’ll be there by three and if you’re not waiting for us at your apartment then I will personally see to it that you never walk again, is that understood? Good, now darling be a dear and pick up some real tea, you know Robert hates coffee.”  
While his mothers’ voice was enough to make Eames freeze, it had the opposite effect on Arthur. He leaped out of the bed, eyes wild and voice frantic “She’s going to kill me. Oh my god Eames your mother is going to kill me and then we’ll never be able to have sex because I’ll be dead!”  
He couldn’t help it, he laughed so hard his ribs felt like they were breaking all over again, but he couldn’t stop. Arthur was panicking and his mother was probably going to kill them both, but this was real. It was all real and Arthur, he loved him. He loved him enough to take on the Russian mafia and his mother. Never in his wildest dreams could Eames have made that up.


End file.
